


when i'm done this night will fear me

by riverbed



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Character Study, Crossdressing, D/s themes, M/M, Modern AU, Power Struggle, Rough Sex, Teasing, at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5996338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverbed/pseuds/riverbed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alexander is hasty. the only way to steady him, to really slow him down, is to shock him.<br/>but first you have to stoke the fire, let it burn out of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when i'm done this night will fear me

**Author's Note:**

> serving up more thinky/trepid/noncommittal ham/laf porn, my specialty.
> 
>  
> 
> [attacked became attacker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IICOKiLaeSk)

Alexander is lit up, on some edge Lafayette will never understand. They hadn’t talked in between the workday and meeting at this bar, so the details of the long day evident in the way Alex grips his beer harder than necessary, in the way he fidgets with his shirtsleeve, are a mystery to him. At least there are ways, he thinks, as he observes Alexander bouncing, swiveling his barstool back and forth.

As their friends chat idly, Lafayette lets his hand drift over to squeeze Alexander’s knee, then, after a few minutes, he slides it a bit higher, shooting him a completely guiltless grin. Alexander grits his teeth, gives him a glare full of the promise of death.

Alexander grows more and more restless until Lafayette finally excuses them, quietly putting the entire group’s drinks on his card as they exit the nightclub. He offers the girl at the bar his most dazzling wink, and she looks back and forth between he and Hamilton and then goes scarlet and pretends to have some very important business to attend to with her dishware.

Once outside, Lafayette pivots gracefully around a corner without looking back, knowing full well that Alexander is at his heels. They are not in an alley, but rather on a less crowded street, and once they are out of the line of sight of the kids bumming cigarettes in front of the club, he swings around and yanks Alexander to him, overcome with the need to be as close to him as possible. The impact of their chests colliding causes Alexander to sway but Lafayette holds him steady, circling his arms around his waist and tilts down to bury his face in Alexander’s hair, for he is just the right height to do so. He inhales deeply and moves lower, lets his breath out shakily against the shorter man’s neck. Alexander bucks his hips forward.

Ah, so it is one of _those_ nights.

“Impatient, are we?” Lafayette teases, retreating a half-step to study Alexander’s face. It is once again hard-set in a glare - it seems to be the facial expression of the evening.

Alexander growls. “If you play hard to get tonight, I swear,” he lets the threat trail off, lets Lafayette draw his own conclusions as he leans back in to bite down on his shoulder. Lafayette jerks his arm in surprise and then hums a little, letting himself consider the sharpness of Alex’s teeth.

“Nothing hard to get besides the obvious, _mon amour._ ” He does his best to lilt it, but the way Alexander is nibbling at his collarbone now makes his breath hitch midsentence. Alexander swats him on the arm for the bad pun and takes the indignant noise he makes in protest as an opportunity to stand on his toes and kiss him, and Lafayette is reminded what a good _kisser_ Alex is. As worked up as he seems to be, he kisses slow and leaves much to the imagination, coyly tracing Lafayette’s plump bottom lip with his tongue a few times before finally pushing past. He kisses like it’s the main event, its action so fluid and instinctive - a nip when Lafayette moans, soothingly sucking his lip into his mouth when he gasps, a complete call-and-response experience.

Lafayette is the one who pulls away, panting, and staggers back as Alexander leers at him. “Call a cab,” Alex orders, and Lafayette wastes no time pulling out his phone to do so. He hails the Uber, watching Alexander wander back to the main thoroughfare and lean against the wall as casually as possible.

Their driver takes only 30 seconds to get there, and Lafayette greets him, sliding into the backseat of the Prius behind Alexander, who doesn’t even say hello.

“Calling it an early night?” He asks them once they’re on the road, and they look at each other pointedly.

“You could say that,” Lafayette says at length, and Alexander nods to him. _Good_ , he seems to say with his eyes. Lafayette shivers.

*

Fifteen minutes later their jackets are on the floor and Alexander has Lafayette backed up against the kitchen counter. He had just wanted to get a glass of water, but Hamilton seems intent that he should be the center of attention - like a cat, forever needy and demanding. Lafayette would have him no other way.

Alexander places his hands on his hips, making it very clear where he wants him, and Lafayette mewls at the contact, his pulse thrumming insistently beneath Alexander's fingers.

“You need to…” Lafayette says, even while tilting his head back to ease access as Alexander peppers hasty kisses across the underside of his jaw.

Hamilton chuckles against his throat. “What is it I need, Gil?” he presses, backing them up further so there is virtually no room between Lafayette’s body and the counter. A drawer’s handle digs painfully into Lafayette’s glute, and he breathes through it, willing himself to swallow it down because this is just too _good_ , too perfect. He wants Alexander closer - as close as he can be, melding into him, the two of them blending seamlessly into one. He can feel Alex’s heartbeat against his chest, rapid in pace and increasing ever more as the moments pass to match his own.

Alexander looks up at him, wide-eyed as ever, pupils blown, and Lafayette wonders how they even started this game of theirs, where it came from. He wonders how they discovered it in each other - he doesn’t remember a moment where he realized, a singular tell. Granted, Hamilton has never been the type to keep much hidden away, but this had never been discussed. It had just… happened, as best as he can remember it, a night much like this one, an evening with friends and drinks and the spark of a touch when Alexander had been settling in to crash at his.

Their relationship is surprisingly uncomplicated. They match wits - did so all through college, scraped through the same jobs and classes, challenged each other, pressing buttons in good ways and bad. Nowadays things are quieter between them, but their history does lend itself a sharp edge to their friendship. And in certain moments, they are still as competitive as they have ever been, neither ever totally satisfied to yield completely to the other.

No, Lafayette muses, Alexander likes the fight. And, if he admits it to himself, so does he. Maybe he just accepts defeat more gracefully.

And then there is the matter of their chosen weapons. Alexander’s are definitely his words, sharp as blades or dulled and pressing in just where he wants them when he wants them. They can wound as harshly as any sword, but tend to be rash, too eager to leave, casting a wide net and sometimes landing on unintended targets, thus slightly diminishing their effectiveness via their known breadth. Alexander enjoys being known as a threat - he relishes it, savors it whenever someone tells him he is rushing to judgement, because he knows his intuition always turns out to be right. After all, he scrabbled his way up in the world on pure instinct. 

Lafayette has less natural animalistic inclination, but he can read people. And he enjoys being deadly, but he also loves secrets.

Sometimes the best way to win is not by brute force, but by subtly drawing out your opponent's weaknesses and attacking them one by one before they even know they’re disarmed.

He lets Alexander demand, lets him direct, happy to take and be given to. He does not need to be on top to be in control. He is confident in quiet, powerful in secret.

*

They aim for the bed, but end up at the desk in the living room, another conveniently solid surface for Alexander to shove Lafayette against in his haste, this time pitching him forward so he bends at the waist, bracing himself against it on his elbows and grinding his ass back into the curve made by Hamilton’s body as he leans over him.

“You want to tease me,” he growls against a spot just beneath his ear, and Lafayette shudders, confirms his suspicions with a little shift of his hips, making Alexander gasp and nip at his earlobe in retaliation.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Alexander spits, taking hold of the larger man’s waist to pull him flush against him and leaning down to cover him completely with his own body, pressing his chest to the dark wood table. His weight is a comforting reminder - Lafayette could pretty easily straighten up and lift him a couple inches off the floor, but Alexander has him pinned effectively enough, and Lafayette has no desire to move and upset the equilibrium of his friend’s precarious position on his back. He feels balanced, as if he is just where he needs to be.

Selfishly, he also finds the idea of Alexander discovering what he’s kept hidden all evening in this position rather exciting.

And then the game is about to be up - Alexander is grinding hard against him and he can tell he’s close to deciding he’s had enough of their current level of dress. Hamilton’s hands fumble blindly lower, from his waist to the center of his groin, palming his erection through his slacks before popping the button and tugging down the zipper. He shimmies the pants down his hips, letting them pool at the floor at Lafayette’s feet.

“Oh,” he breathes, and it sounds like it’s been punched out of him. Lafayette is wearing these - these _panties_ , cream-white with light blue polka dots, small ruffles gathered at the legs and waistband. They’re virginal, far too much. Alexander feels his stomach flip, tightness gathering just below it. “You _slut_ ,” he points out, and Lafayette cannot argue.

He goes to put a hand on the small of Lafayette’s back, but as he pushes his shirt up, he feels… well. That’s not the ribbed cotton he’d been expecting under it.  
_  
God damn him._

His hand bunches a smooth, seamless expanse, and he cannot believe Lafayette’s nerve, or his own luck. 

“What the hell did you…” he trails off in awe, yanking Lafayette up by the hair and turning him to unbutton his shirt and pull it down his shoulders, crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it to some indiscriminate place in the room. He looks Lafayette directly in the eye as he does so - he knows how much he hates ironing. He’s baiting him. Lafayette once again keeps himself in check, refusing to bite.

Alexander studies the camisole, the same light blue as the dots on the panties, letting his hands roam up under it to feel the slide of the satin. His skin is warm beneath it, the silky fabric cool and thin. It lays against Lafayette’s torso like the most ineffective of barriers, rippling clearly against every curve of musculature. Alexander feels the last bit of blood rush from his head and, for once, struggles for his words.

“You want to tease me,” he repeats, his jaw open and his eyes narrowing in focus as he studies Lafayette, curling a hand around his flank and running it slowly down. He gets up on his tiptoes again, whispers right in Lafayette’s ear: “I hope you know what you’ve asked for.”

*

Lafayette had anticipated Alexander responding to his punishing teasing in kind. He just didn’t think he’d take his turn so seriously.

The cock ring is one of those simple silicone ones. It fits snugly around him, though not so tight that he has any excuse to complain. Alexander adjusts it a bit more, the lube slicking it enough to slide easily a little further down to the base of him, and then pulls the cute little pair of undies back up, and Gilbert sputters French curses as the rough cotton brushes light friction that feels like flames against the ultra-sensitized head of his cock.

Alexander smirks at him as he slides off the bed and sinks to his knees before him, his mop of fine dark hair sticking up in some places with static. Lafayette puts a hand in it to ground himself, pulls a handful into his fist and hears Alexander hum appreciatively. He spreads his thighs to make room as Alexander leans forward to put his face against his stomach, pushing the hem of the camisole out of the way with his substantial nose to press soft, teasing kisses to his belly.

And then Alexander dips his head lower, starts mouthing at the panties without warning, and Lafayette shouts in surprise and tightens his grip in Alex’s hair. He moves torturously slow just the same, not really surrounding his cock but working his lips and tongue against it through the fabric. Lafayette snorts a little at the thought that this would be the only thing to force Hamilton to slow down and enjoy himself, and Alexander shoots him an impressively threatening look, given their positioning.

Alexander is doing his absolute best to drive Lafayette crazy, putting the entire range of his considerable skills with his mouth to focused work. Finally he closes his lips around the head of him, and Lafayette loses his vision for a moment, his entire world shifting slightly so that when he opens his eyes it’s all a little off. Alexander is pulling away from his groin, leaving the fabric covering it visibly wet.

He pants, trying in vain to catch his breath, staring down at Hamilton, who stares back. They share a wordless moment that seems to be full of understanding, lips parted and posture open, before Alexander surges back up into his lap to kiss his swollen lips.

*

Alexander watches him carefully, scraping half-lidded eyes down his chest, his abdomen, his cock - prominently on display with nothing to obstruct his view of it - to his thighs, flexing to pivot him on top of Alexander. He does not touch Lafayette except at where he breaches him - he has one arm up framing his own head, bent relaxed at the elbow, and the other he rests on his own chest, palm flat against it. He looks completely blissed out, and normally Lafayette would take it as a challenge, try to up the ante and put the pressure on, but something about the mood of this evening - weird, _off_ , somehow, almost like the world has slowed down around them - has him content to be languid, even after all the frenzied foreplay.

He arches his back a little, and that reveals a new sensation entirely - he leans back into it, and if that's not what Alexander wanted - well, he should've thought about that, and tied his hands, been on top, something. As it stands, he is free to move as he pleases, and he indulges himself, scooting his knees up to allow him more range of motion backward, arching languidly, rolling his hips in slow circles, taking slow stock of each different way the length of Alexander's cock can press into him. At some angles it rubs against the soft bud of his prostate, makes his head go fuzzy; at others, it feels impossibly thick, a more generalized pressure, the near-overwhelming feeling of simply being _filled._

Alexander seems to be just as content with the lazy fog that has settled over them, every once in a while contributing by wiggling his hips but otherwise happy to let Lafayette do the work. It’s a change; refreshing, the way Alexander has deferred, accepted Lafayette’s will without much argument. And the fight was two-sided: they met in the middle and made a compromise, wrapped in each other and with the sudden realization that neither of them has anyplace else to go.

His eye is caught by the quick flutter of the muscles in Alexander’s abdomen, the first signs of the impending stir of orgasm. He still doesn’t try to take control, just shifts down further into the bedspread when Lafayette pitches forward on his knees to steady himself as he increases his pace. He puts his hands on Alexander’s chest, then thinks better of it, readjusts and drops down to prop himself on his elbows, suddenly desperate to feel Alexander work for it, at least a little bit. And this pulls him away a little, so Hamilton has to, reaching around to encircle his waist and starting to buck rhythmically into him. Lafayette moans and kisses him, only pulling away to sob into his neck as his climax courses hot through him and he spills against their stomachs, his thighs quivering with the exertion of the awkward position.

And Alexander is no longer on that precipice, on that cliff. His orgasm shakes his bones loose from the muscle, makes his limbs heavy as he falls. It lasts so long that he starts to think he is dreaming; when he comes to Lafayette is lying beside him and petting his hair. He smiles at him, and Hamilton returns the gesture, silently.

Gilbert doesn’t feel like he’s won; more like the world has righted itself, like maybe from now on things will not be a matter of winning and losing; he feels freed from that narrative, and hopes Alexander does, too.


End file.
